


A Little Bit of Belief Away

by e_k_evans



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe, Angst, BAMF Stiles, Canon-Typical Violence, Everybody Lives, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, No Smut, Older Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale pov, Rated For Violence, Spark Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2019-04-19 00:32:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14225229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/e_k_evans/pseuds/e_k_evans
Summary: “And you must be Talia’s little brother, Peter,” Stiles grins, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”“All good things I hope,” Peter manages to get out. He’d heard someone say it on the TV once and thought it sounded cool.“Oh, for sure,” Stiles answers, his eyes dancing with humour, “whatever bad things could she have to say about her little brother.” And weren’t Stiles’ eyes beautiful, like sunlight shining through amber.-oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo-Peter meets Stiles for the first time when he’s fifteen and immediately knows that he wants him forever, despite the man being his big sister’s best friend and twelve years his senior.This is a story of life, love, family and friends, and how, despite our best attempts, sometimes life just doesn’t always go the way we think it will but how, sometimes, if you’re lucky, you do get your happy ending.





	A Little Bit of Belief Away

**Author's Note:**

> Hey lovelies, it's been a long time since I've written and posted anything so I'll admit to being a little rusty. I'm pretty sure I managed to get rid of 99% of my mistakes but some always manage to slip through so I hope any you do find doesn't put you off to much :)
> 
> Enjoy!

The first time Peter meets Stiles, he’s fifteen. He has vague memories of Stiles from his early childhood but nothing solid. Talia left Beacon Hills for college and Stiles for an apprenticeship when Peter was six. Now Stiles is back, having completed his decade long apprenticeship a year early and Talia is a bubble of excited energy, having not seen her best friend for nine years. It’s getting on Peter’s nerves. It _really_ grated when she told him not to embarrass her in front of her friend and to stop acting like a bratty teenager.

He, Talia and their Mama drive over to Stiles’ new shop just off of Beacon Hills main street. Peter is a curious person and has spent time acquainting himself with magic despite his young age, getting a feel for it, so that he’s a little more prepared if he ever has to face off against a magic user. 

So, when they reach Stiles’ shop Peter can feel the wards, know that they, and anyone supernaturally inclined, will see the actual shop front. _Stilinski’s Magic Emporium_ blazoned across the glass windows. To anyone who hadn’t encountered the supernatural however, they would simply walk past; not noticing the shop was even there. Their eyes would just slip from the barbershop on the left of Stiles’ shop to the craft store on the right, not noticing there was anything in between. Peter appreciates how Harry Potter the whole thing is. 

A little bell tinkles as his Mama opens the door for him and his sister and he follows Talia inside. He almost walks into the back of Talia when someone throws themselves at her. He feels his fangs pop out, ready to defend but quickly puts them away when he realises that his sister and the man who’d thrown himself at her were laughing and Talia was spinning him around in circles.

“Stiles! I’m so excited that you’re here!” Talia exclaims, setting the man down but not letting go of him. “That you’re back!”

“I’m pretty sure you can thank your Mom for that,” Stiles chuckles.

“Well you said in one of your letters that you wanted to come back here instead of that post the Council wanted you to take in Denver so I made a few phone calls,” Mary smiles, walking around Peter to ruffle Stiles’ hair. 

“Thank you…again,” Stiles says, letting go of Talia to embrace Mary. He lets her go and turns his attention to Peter, “And you must be Talia’s little brother, Peter,” he grins, “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“All good things I hope,” he manages to get out. He’d heard someone say it on the TV once and thought it sounded cool. 

“Oh, for sure,” Stiles answers, his eyes dancing with humour, “whatever bad things could she have to say about her little brother.” And weren’t Stiles’ eyes beautiful, like sunlight shining through amber. Stiles turns away to continue talking to Talia and Mary, and Peter takes a moment to really take stock of Stiles. 

He’s tall. Peter is still growing but he thinks even when he’s fully grown, Stiles will still be taller than him. Stiles’ lips are full, his eyelashes are long and his cheekbones and jawline are sharp. Peter can see tattoos peeking out from the bottoms of Stiles’ shirt and tendrils of ink showing just above his collar. He wonders just how much of Stiles’ body is covered by tattoos. 

Peter thinks that Stiles is the most beautiful person he’s ever seen and when he takes a deep breath in through his nose, he has to turn away and pretend to look at the relics and artefacts on the shelf behind him. His face is on fire. Stiles smells like honey, mint and soap on the surface but underneath that he also smells like raw power. Like the air before a lightning strike and a tsunami wave breaking and other powerful, uncontrollable things. It’s intoxicating.

Peter wants him, wants to marry him, have him forever. He knows it isn’t usual for a fifteen year old to know with such bone-deep certainty that they could love someone for the entirety of their lives but it is what it is. Peter isn’t going to question it. He knows that it’s going to have to be a long game, one that can’t even really start until he’s graduated college, but he’s okay with that. 

Peter shuffles along, actually looking at what’s on the shelves now, waiting for the heat in his cheeks to disappear. The bottom three shelves are full of books and tomes of varying ages in various languages. The top three are full of ornaments and relics. A life size cat ornament catches Peter’s eye. It feels as if its gaze is following Peter, but that can’t be right. Then again he is in a shop owned and run by a Spark so anything was possible. 

Peter shakes himself, feeling silly and turns away. Something shatters behind him. He turns back around, confused and sees that the ornament that had been sitting on the shelf next to the cat is now in pieces by Peter’s feet.

“ _Peter_!” Talia growls, he recalls her warning about not embarrassing her.

“I didn’t do anything!” he says, holding up his hands. “I was looking at the books!”

“Oh, so it just fell off of the shelf by itself did it?!” 

“It’s okay, Talia,” Stiles says in before Peter can respond, “I know it wasn’t Peter.”

“You don’t have to defend him Stiles,” his sister bites out.

“No, I mean, it really wasn’t,” Stiles replies firmly. He strides over to where Peter still stands and reaches out to take the life sized black cat ornament from the shelf, holding it in his palm. 

“It was this little shit,” Stiles tells him, “I thought I was being so clever when I named him Loki. I should have just called him Sooty like my Dad suggested.” And he taps the ornament on the forehead and where once a piece of china was, now sits an actual cat.

“He’s a mischievous little thing,” Stiles smiles, “and don’t think that’ll get you anything!” he says to Loki, who’s jumped from Stiles’ hand to his shoulder and is nuzzling the side of his head. “You just broke something that took me months to make!” The cat trills happily, continuing to nuzzle Stiles and Stiles sighs heavily. Peter can’t help but laugh at the look of annoyance on Stiles’ face.

-oOo-

As much as Peter wants to spend all his time following Stiles around, he is nothing if not practical and knows that that would be a shitty course of action. So he continues on with his life and if he imagines Stiles whenever he touches himself, rather than his girlfriend, well, that’s nobody’s business but his own.

It’s another two years before he sees Stiles again. Talia’s getting married to her long-term boyfriend Richard. He’s from a prominent East Coast pack and they had met when they were in college. Peter likes him and thinks it’s about time they got around to tying the knot, but mainly he was looking forward to seeing some of the extended family that would be descending on the Hale House for the wedding. He’s hoping his Uncle Jacob might even get him a beer or two. Jacob didn’t have any children and always made it very clear that Peter was his favourite out of his brother’s children. 

The ceremony is very nice. Richard cries when he sees Talia walking down the aisle. His Mama cries too and he’s very sure he sees his Papa well up when he places Talia’s hand in Richards. Peter doesn’t see the point; it wasn’t as if she was moving out. After the honeymoon Richard would be moving in with them since he was joining their pack and not the other way around. 

The reception is even better. They’d hired a marquee to hold the ceremony and party in, had it constructed on Hale property and since it was a nice summer evening the sides were up and guests were spilling out over the lawns. Guests were laughing, dancing, drinking and Peter’s Uncle Jacob came through with some beer. They sat together in one of the more shaded corners chatting about life, human politics, supernatural politics, and the origins of the universe. All of the good stuff. 

Of course, Peter’s been aware of Stiles all day. They’d said a brief hello before the ceremony began but hadn’t spoken since then. Peter was on his third, yes, _third_ beer, when Stiles appears and throws himself into the free seat next to Peter. 

“Hey, Peter, sorry to interrupt,” he says, holding his hand out to Jacob, “I’m Stiles, Talia’s friend and current Hale pack emissary. I just managed to escape, sorry, say goodbye to Dorothy. Lovely women, I was charmed but she kept squeezing my knee and I’m incredibly ticklish and when I got up to leave she smacked my ass and I mean, I know I’m almost thirty, but I still think I’m a little on the young side for her.”

“Yeah, she’s old and doesn’t give fuck about what people think anymore,” Jacob chuckles. 

Peter is slightly blown away by his sudden appearance and is definitely more tipsy then sober, so it takes him a moment to pull himself together and form a coherent sentence. “So now you’re hiding over here with us?” he asks, a grin playing on his lips. 

“Pretty much,” Stiles says, nodding vigorously.

“I can’t believe it,” Peter smirks, turning to Jacob, “One of the most powerful magical beings in the country and yet still scared of Great-Granny Dot.”

“Well, to be fair,” Jacob concedes, “she is very terrifying when she shouts. Not that you’ll have ever seen it. I’ve only ever seen her shout once. It was at your Aunty Jessica, she’s one of my cousins,” he adds for Stiles’ benefit, “I can’t even remember why now but damn, I was quaking and none of it was meant for me.” 

Stiles and Jacob hold a conversation about terrifying relatives and the things they’d done to deserve their wrath. Peter just listens, enjoying the cadence of Stiles’ voice and the stories he gets to hear. It couldn’t last forever though and eventually Talia appears, very drunk, and wanting her best friend to come and dance to “their song”. 

When _I Had the Time Of My Life_ starts playing Peter can’t help but laugh. He actually cries when the pair somehow manages the famous lift, Talia holding Stiles high above her head before gently setting him back down again. Peter spies his Mama taking a video and he is _so_ glad he can show this moment to his future nieces and nephews.

“So…” Jacob remarks. 

“Yes?” he asks, wary.

“That’s the man you broke up with that girl for.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tries, the look his Uncle Jacob gives him says it clearly didn’t work. “I didn’t break up with her _for_ him. He’s over a decade older than me and not into teenagers, because gross and Talia would have castrated him by now.”

“Damn right,” his Uncle agrees.

“I broke up with her because I knew I was going to see him today and I was so fucking excited about that. It wasn’t fair to stay with Faye when she has genuine feelings for me and I was just with her to take my mind off of the fact that I couldn’t have what I actually wanted.” 

“Mature of you.”

“Thanks.” 

“If not a tad dramatic. You’ve met him twice, life isn’t a fairy tale.”

“Says one werewolf to another…”

“Cheeky.”

“Yet true.”

“Go dance with him.”

“What? No. I can’t do that.” Peter protests.

“Why?”

“Because I might make a fool of myself.”

Uncle Jacob raises an eyebrow at him. There’s a lot of weight behind that one eyebrow and the man has a point. Peter is a confident teenager, never one to let the possibility of embarrassment stop him from doing something. He’s an apex predator; it did a lot for the self-esteem. None of that mattered when it came to Stiles though. 

“I really don’t miss being a teenager,” Jacob remarks, still staring Peter down.

“I’ll do it, but…”

“Here we go.”

“Only if you get me a scotch. Dutch courage and all that,” he grins.

“Okay.” He didn’t think his Uncle would actually agree to it, “But you can only have it after you’ve danced with him.”

“It’s not Dutch courage if I get the drink after the deed!” Peter protests.

“Them’s the rules, take ‘em or leave ‘em,” his Uncle shrugs.

“Fine!” Peter bites out, letting out a low growl as he gets up out of his chair. 

Jacob snaps at him playfully before smacking him on the back. “You’ve got this,” he says, clearly going for reassuring but not really making Peter feel any better.

Peter picks out Stiles on the dance floor, takes as deep breath and prepares to make an idiot out of himself.

-oOo-

“Shit, shit, shit, shit.” Peter curses, hands shaking as he tries to use Talia’s finger print to unlock her phone.

Peter had come home from school earlier than normal, skipping track and field because something in his gut was telling him to go home. He’d arrived to an eerily quiet house and knew something was wrong. His Mama and Papa and Richard were at work but Talia was supposed to be about, not working because of how heavily pregnant she is. She usually meets him in the kitchen with a cup of tea ready for the both of them. Not today though. 

Peter had scented her out, finding her in the library with blood staining through her grey sweatpants.

“Fuck, shit, shit, fuck,” his vision blurs but he has to breathe, he has to stay calm and get a hold of Stiles. 

After what feels like a lifetime he gets Talia’s fingerprint to work and then another eon seems to pass as he scrolls through her contacts until he finds Stiles’ number. The space between each ring feels like a day passes as he listens to the heartbeat of his sister’s baby flutter erratically.

“Hey, Talia, ever-”

“Stiles, Stiles you have to come quickly. I just got home from school and I found Talia in the library and something’s wrong with the baby and there’s blood everywhere and the heartbeat is starting to sound really irregular and Talia’s heartbeat is starting to weaken and I don’t know what to do-” he chokes off. His big sister, his fierce, unstoppable big sister is dying and he’s terrified. 

“Breathe, breathe for me Peter. I’m already in the Jeep, I’m going to put you on speaker phone.” And sure enough an engine starts in the background and the sound quality changes. “I need you to do something for me Peter.”

“Anything, anything!”

“In your sister’s study, in the bottom draw of her desk there should be a briefcase, go and get it for me and take it back to your sister.”

“I won’t be able to get into her study, it’ll be locked” he says, although he still rises and makes his way on jelly legs out of the library and down the corridor.

“I’ve unlocked it for you.”

And sure enough when Peter reaches the study, the door and the draw he needs are already open for him. He runs back to Talia’s side. “I’m back, what do I do now.”

“In the case there’s a bunch of plastic bags with different herbs in, I need you to find the red raspberry leaf. There’s a pestle and mortar in there and a lighter. Use the mortar to burn the leaves on and get Talia to inhale some of the smoke.”

“Okay,” he hurries to obey, also putting Stiles on speaker.

“And while you’re doing all of this Peter, and this is the most important part, I need you to believe, with every _fibre_ of your being, in me and that Talia and the baby will get through this unharmed, alright?”

“Alright.” 

“I’ll be there in less than ten minutes.”

“Stiles, I’m scared,” he admits as he pulls the raspberry leaf from the briefcase. 

“I know, but everything is going to be fine. You have to believe that for me.”

“I do. I do believe it, because you’re on your way and you can do anything.” He feels childish saying it. He’s eighteen now but he feels like he’s a little kid again but, this time he’s losing his sister potentially forever, not just to college.

“I wouldn’t quite go that far,” Stiles laughs but there’s no humour in the sound, “but this I can do. This I have to do.”

Peter lights the raspberry leaf and tries not the sneeze when the smell tickles his nose. He holds it next to Talia’s face, moving the mortar so the smoke lingers around her nose, watches as his sister inhales.

“This stuff smells gross,” he chokes out, covering his nose with his free hand.

“I’m almost there, I’m turning onto the drive now,” Stiles assures him.

Sure enough, within a minute Peter can hear the sound of Stiles’ Jeep gunning it towards the house. Peter hears the breaks slam on, followed by the sounds of the Jeep’s door opening and the front door banging open. Stiles thunders up the stairs two at a time and then he’s there in the doorway.

“Oh Talia,” he breathes, and Peter catches a hint of fear in his scent before it disappears and the smell of magic builds in the air. Lightening and breaking waves and other uncontrollable things. The air seems to crackle as Stiles rushes over, falling to his knees on Talia’s other side. “This is not going to be pretty, do as I tell you too. The raspberry leaf should be taking affect by now, how’s the babies heartbeat?”

He listens and says, “Stronger than it was when I found them, still not as strong as it was this morning though.”

“Okay, burn some more of the raspberry leaf and add some sage, please.”

Peter nods and gets to work finding the sage. He hears Stiles chant in a low voice, he can’t identify the language but knows it’s an ancient one. The air stops crackling and starts to shiver. Peter finds what he needs and sets them to burn before turning to stare at Stiles wide eyed. 

Stiles’ shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows revealing the tattoos on his strong forearms. Peter watches in awe as they start glowing pale green. His voice gets louder and louder and Peter watches as runes start to appear on Talia’s body, shining through her clothes. 

“I need you to sit her up and hold her, her back to your front. Then I’m going to wake her up and we’re gonna deliver this baby,” Stiles tells him, yanking off Talia’s sweatpants and underwear in one go. Peter shifts around to lift his sister, taking her weight against him as Stiles manoeuvres Talia’s legs.

“Ready?”

“Ready,” Peter says, but he is not ready.

Stiles touches Talia’s forehead and then his sister is gasping, struggling weakly against Peter’s hold.

“Talia,” Stiles says.

“Stiles? Peter? Wha-”

“Something went wrong with the pregnancy. Peter found you and called me. I’ve induced labour, you’re fully dilated. Contractions will start when I tell them too, okay?”

“But it’s a month early…”

“Better early then dead, dear,” Stiles says frankly. Talia nods and Stiles smiles at her. He presses an index finger to her stomach, a rune glows and the contraction must be awful by the scream Talia lets out.

Talia pushes and Stiles coaxes her on, sometimes shouting profanities at her when he doesn’t think she’s pushing hard enough. Talia holds Peters hand and breaks it twice but it is worth it when finally Stiles is holding a screaming baby and telling Talia that she’s just had a little girl. Peter had believed and Talia and her little girl were okay. 

He hugs Talia tightly from behind and looks over her shoulder at the baby. She’s covered in blood and gunk and looked awful, her face all smushed and bruised from being forced through a ten centimetre gap, but she is still the best thing Peter has ever seen.

***

Talia is safely in bed with the newly named Laura sleeping soundly on her chest and his parents and Richard are home, when Peter finds himself alone in the kitchen with Stiles. They’ve both showered and Stiles is wearing some of Richard’s clothes because the clothes he had been wearing had ended up kind of bloody. And now they’re sitting at the kitchen table, enjoying the stillness.

“I hope I never have to do that again,” Peters says, honestly. “I didn’t know you knew midwifery.”

“Yeah, it’s part of the training,” Stiles shrugs, “Supernatural creatures generally can’t just turn up at a hospital. I’m your pack’s emissary but I’m the midwife for the entire county.”

“I didn’t know that.” 

Stiles nods, then gets up and makes both of them a cup of tea. He hands Peter his and smiles, “I really couldn’t have done that today without your help, without your belief,” he says. “If you ever need me I’m just a phone call or a little bit of belief away.”

“Thanks,” Peter swallows thickly. “I usually stay after school for track and field but something just didn’t feel right today.”

“Well I’m glad you didn’t stay. If she’d been there any longer without help it might have been too late,” his eyes are suspiciously shiny.

Peter doesn’t think, he just acts. 

He stands and reaches out, pulls Stiles to him by the waist, wanting comfort from this amazing man and also wanting to be the person to give him comfort in return. Stiles is warm, and hugs Peter back hard, his arms wrapping around Peter’s shoulder. Peter had stopped growing months ago and like Peter had thought when he was fifteen, Stiles was still taller than him by an inch or two, allowing Peter to comfortably rest his head on Stiles’ shoulder. He feels a few tears leak from his own eyes and Stiles sniffs suspiciously but neither comment on the state of the other. They just hold each other, and Peter is glad for it.

-oOo-

_Go to college_ , they said. _It would be fun_ , they said. And it was right up until someone had spiked Peter’s drink and he’d woken up tied to a chair in a windowless room.

Peter is halfway through his sophomore year studying Law at Berkeley. He has a nice friends-with-benefits type relationship with another Law student. Peter is never going to introduce David to his family so they’ll never pick up on the fact that he looks oddly like Stiles, like weirdly. It’s strange and his friend Erica, who is also a werewolf, mocks him for it to no end. He has friends now, like proper _TaliandStiles_ type friendships that had always alluded him high schoo,l and he has a great GPA.

Then, yeah, he went to a party and things went to shit. He hopes Erica had realised and gotten in contact with his sister.

The people who’d managed to get the jump on him seemed to be your standard bigot hunters. They had enough smarts to pass off the younger members of the group as college students to infiltrate the party. How they knew he was there he had no idea but considering Erica and Boyd were also present, he’s glad they thought he was the only werewolf at the party. He’d hate to see his friends dragged into this too, especially when he needed them to get in contact with home. He had to believe he’d be rescued because he’d already tried to escape and got firmly nowhere.

They ask him questions about his pack, about himself but he keeps his mouth firmly shut, even when they start to cut him. The blades are coated in wolfsbane, not enough to kill him but enough to keep the wounds open, enough to keep him bleeding. 

One of them puts on a knuckleduster and starts punching him. It’s made of silver and the contact burns and splits his skin. He does everything he can to not make a sound. Peter isn’t going to give them the satisfaction. Even when they’d punched him so many times his right eye had swollen closed, even when they started cutting higher and higher up his thighs, he made no sound. He sits and believes with everything he has that he is going to be rescued, that his sister and Richard and his parents and _Stiles_ will come for him. 

He passes out, the last thought on his mind is Stiles’ smile.

***

Peter comes too with a start, comes back to consciousness to watch Stiles, a blaze of rage, runes glowing red, forcing his hand into his captors chest. “How does it feel,” Stiles asks the man, who promptly soils himself.

“How does it feel,” Stiles continues, “to have someone hold your life in their hands knowing that they’re eventually going to kill you? Can you feel it my hand? Of course you can, I’m keeping you alive so you can. So you can feel my hand around your heart before I rip it out. So you can feel how you made one of mine feel, one of my pack! One who is mine to protect! I’m going to make an example of you, use you and your friends and your families to make sure everyone understands,” he was shouting now, “that if you touch one of mine, this is what you get!” and he rips out the man’s heart and lets him fall to the floor, throwing the organ after him.

“That was a bit dramatic wasn’t it?” Peter coughs, trying to hold back a sob. They’d found him, _Stiles_ had found him.

“He fucking deserved it,” Stiles spits before turning to look at Peter, “I mean look at you!” 

Peter doesn’t, just stares at Stiles, feeling his one open eye beginning to water. “Thank you for finding me,” he croaks, feeling a tear track down his cheek.

“Hey, hey,” Stiles soothes, stepping closer and gently wiping the tear away, “Of course I found you. You believed in me, believed that I would, so I did.” Stiles’ runes turn pale green and he starts running his palms over Peter’s many wounds. As Stiles’ hands pass over the cuts Peter’s healing begins to kick in.

“Are Erica and Boyd okay?” he asks.

“They’re fine,” Stiles reassures him, “They contacted your Mom as soon as they realised you were missing.”

“Is my Mama here?” he asks hopefully. He’d just been cut to ribbons by complete strangers for the only reason that he was werewolf, he wanted his Mama. 

“Yeah she is. Talia is working on calming her down. As soon as you’re all healed I’m going to get you up there.”

“Did she see me passed out?”

Stiles nods, “I’ve never seen her so mad. You thought what I just did was something? That was nothing compared to what your Mom’s done to some of the other hunters after seeing the state of you. They tried to _run away_ from her as well, idiots. Have I missed anywhere?” he asks, taking his palms from Peter’s face. He can see out of both eyes now which is nice.

“They tilted me forward and cut my back up to,” he says, leaning forward with a grimace, the blood had dried and it pulled on his skin when he moved.

“Fucking hell” Stiles breathes as he looks at Peter’s back. Peter vividly remembers them cutting the outline of his spine and ribs. Peter let’s his eyes flutter closed and he tries to memorise the feeling of Stiles’ warm, calloused hands on his skin as they pass gently over the wounds. This is what he wants to remember, not the sting of a knife. 

Stiles heals the last of the cuts and Peter’s physical pain eases completely. That doesn’t stop his whole body from shaking as Stiles helps him up the stairs and out of the basement he’d been held in. When they reach the ground floor Peter has to stop and vomit. The smell of death, and blood, and piss, and shit, too much for his nose. He looks around and counts at least eight bodies.

“These were all your Mom,” Stiles informs him before helping him out of the house.

The scene outside is that of a few more dead hunters and two wolves in full shift growling at each other, Talia, her fur black and his Mama, her coat a lighter brown. “Mama,” he murmurs, stumbling down the porch steps of the farmhouse they’d held him captive in.

She shifts back in an instant, “My baby, my baby boy,” she sighs, rushing to him and taking him from Stiles. He collapses into her, stuffing her head into her neck and falling to the ground, his Mama goes with him, easing him down. Peter can hear someone wailing and it takes him a moment to realise that it’s him.

-oOo-

It takes him a while but Peter gets better. He has some very bad days but with the help of his pack and his therapist, Peter finishes college, passes the bar and gets an internship with one of law firms in Beacon Hills that deals with supernatural cases. Yes he’s a little bit more paranoid then he was before starting college. Considering that when his Mama passed down the alpha power to Talia so she could kick-back and enjoy her retirement, Talia named him as her enforcer, he doesn’t consider his paranoia that much of a bad thing.

He enjoys his job and he really enjoys that he gets to visit Stiles semi-regularly as Stiles’ shop is a bit of a hub for all of the supernatural beings in the county so the man hears a lot of gossip that often helps with his cases. Sometimes he heads over to Stiles’ shop on the lunch time just to see the man. He’ll take coffee for both of them and sometimes a little cup of lactose free milk for Loki. 

Peter’s internship turns into a full time job, he turn twenty-five, and becomes actual proper friends with Stiles somewhere along the way. And it’s good, he likes it. He has another couple of flings but starts thinking about potentially asking Stiles out. Yes, there is still a big age gap, Stiles is thirty-seven but Peter knows he’s a handsome man, that he’s not a kid anymore. Occasionally he’ll get a hint in Stiles’ scent, when it’s just the two of them, that maybe the older man isn’t as unaffected by Peter as he appears during the few times that Peter tries to flirt with him. 

However all of his hopes and dreams come crashing down one afternoon when he heads over to Stiles’ shop, coffee in hand, and through the glass windows he see’s Stiles kissing another man over the counter. Peter doesn’t go any further; instead he high tails it back to his car, dumping the coffees in the nearest bin. He sits and hyperventilates for ten minutes before calling in sick for the rest of the day and heading home.

He doesn’t remember the drive home. Just remembers his Mama meeting him at the front door and feeling like his heart had shattered. He’d been an idiot for thinking he ever had a chance with Stiles. Stiles was an attractive man, of course he was seeing someone, or dating someone, or doing something, anything that didn’t involve being attracted to his best friends little brother. Peter felt like a fool, even more so when Talia came home after picking Laura and Derek up from school and smelt the misery on him. 

He had Cora curled up asleep in his lap. The toddler had taken one whiff of him before giving Peter her teddy bear and wrapping her favourite blanket around Peter’s shoulders and snuggling up with him on the sofa because “Cuddles make everything better.” 

The smile Talia gives him, of utter pity, he’d have snapped at her if it wouldn’t have woken Cora up. She sends Laura and Derek upstairs to play and then sits down in front of him on the coffee table, “Oh, Peter,” she sighs, reaching out to squeeze his knee.

“Don’t ‘oh, Peter’ me,” he growls, scenting Cora’s hair.

“I mean, I knew you had a crush on him but I didn’t know that you were in love with him,” she says softly.

“Mama rang ahead?” he asks, and she nods. “I have been since I was fifteen, Talia. Love at first sight.” He’s spitting the words by the end. 

“Do you want me to say something to him?”

“Of course not,” he sighs, “He can do whatever he wants, be with whomever he wants, it’s his life. What do I care?” 

“I know you don’t feel like this now, but it will be alright eventually.”

“Yeah,” he snorts bitterly, “If I just believe right? Everything will be okay if I just believe.”

Talia looks at him sadly before squeezing his knee again and getting up to go and make them tea.

-oOo-

Peter meets Lydia in the one supernatural bar in Beacon Hills. She’s fiercely intelligent, hilarious, beautiful and most importantly she doesn’t give a fuck about the fact that he’s hung up on someone else because she is in a similar situation. In other words, she’s perfect for him.

Peter drowns himself in her, trying to forget that Stiles is in a relationship with some blond guy called Adam who everyone likes but him. And Peter feels bad about not liking him but he just can’t bring himself too. Something about Adam just doesn’t sit right.

Lydia is great about it. Sometimes after they’d fucked she’d help him plot ways to kill Adam and woo Stiles, those were good nights, if not a little painful sometimes. Whenever it is hard though, she always manages to make him laugh, something he’s always grateful for. 

So when she sits him down one night in her apartment, about six months after they’d started sleeping together, looks him in the eye and says, quiet placidly, “I’m pregnant, and I want to keep it.”

He places a hand on her stomach and says, “Okay.”

Everything is a whirlwind from there. They love each other, but they aren’t _in love_. Lydia’s mother strong-arms them into getting married so they don’t “shame themselves or their families”. It’s so gratingly old fashioned but they go along with it because she says she’ll pay for everything, even after they reassure her it’ll end in divorce. Everyone loves a good party and a free holiday after all. 

They get married within a month so Lydia isn’t showing in the wedding photos. His stag party is a week before the wedding because Lydia told him that if he tries to get married hungover she’d name the baby either Chrysanthemum or Storm and he readily agrees. He gets rip-roaringly drunk with Erica and Boyd and tries not to think about Stiles, tucked up in his apartment above the shop with _Adam_. 

He still somehow ends up shit-faced the night before his wedding anyway, drinking in the preserve by himself. He walks all the way into town to Stiles’ shop. It’s dark inside and the shop has been closed for hours but Stiles still let’s him in. 

“Where’s _Adam_?” Peter sneers instead of greeting Stiles because he’s feeling like an asshole.

“He’s visiting his parents for the weekend,” Stiles answers mildly, ignoring Peter’s acidic tone. Stiles knows that Peter doesn’t like his boyfriend.

“And he hasn’t taken you with him?” Peter asks scathingly. He puts a hand on the counter to stop himself from toppling over. Loki jumps up for a pet, trilling happily when Peter starts scratching under his chin. The cat’s starting to go grey, it makes Peter frown.

“He has very conservative parents, they don’t know that he’s with a man,” Stiles answers, voice slightly strained. 

Peter looks up and Stiles looks sad, Peter did really feel like an asshole then. “That’s shitty,” he murmurs. 

“Yeah well…” Sties trails off, shrugging. “You want to sober up right?”

“Yes please, I don’t want a child named Chrysanthemum.”

“What?” Stiles frowns.

“Nothing, just Lydia being herself,” he grins, letting out a small laugh. How he wishes he could love properly her. They could have taken over the world together. 

As Stiles works Peter leans back to take him in. Watches his hands mix herbs together, watches his lips as he whispers words over them, watches as his runes glow pale green. Almost forty yet still exquisite. There are a few greys in Stiles’ hair but they just make him more attractive.

“You’re coming tomorrow, aren’t you? To the wedding?” Peter asks, kind of blurts really but he doesn’t care. 

“Of course,” Stiles says, looking up, and those eyes, phenomenal, “Wouldn’t miss it.” He goes back to work.

“When Lydia has the baby,” he goes on and his voice seems loud in the quiet room but he ploughs on anyway, “Will you deliver it for us?”

Stiles looks up. “Well, yes of course if she’ll let me,” he says, before going back to combining ingredients

“She will. Like, I know she’d be fine going to the hospital, like sure she’s a banshee, whatever, but it’s not like people can tell she’s a banshee…although if she’s screaming because of her contractions…what if she screams so loud…? Whatever, basically, I’d like you to deliver the baby because I know if anything goes wrong you can fix it.” 

Stiles straightens and hands Peter a glass of green liquid. “You just have to believe,” he smiles.

“Right, yeah,” Peter snorts, “Believe.” He takes the glass and downs it. It’s disgusting.

“It won’t kick in immediately, but you should be sober within the hour.”

“Thanks,” he replies, handing the glass back. “See you tomorrow then I guess.”

“Right…” Stiles sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, “Look, Peter, I-”

“Please don’t,” Peter interrupts, “if you’re going to say what I want you to say…please don’t right now. I can’t deal with it. I can’t leave Lydia at the altar, I’m going to have a child in like six months and I’m a fucking mess. Going into it we know that we’re eventually going to divorce but you know what? I don’t care because Lydia is amazing and she’s going to be the mother of my child and she’ll make a good fucking companion for however long we do spend together. We’re going to part on good terms whatever happens. It might seem weird to other people but it’s going to work for us. Not everything is a fairy tale,” he ends bitterly. 

“Okay, I- Okay.” Stiles sighs, puts the glass down on the counter and crowds close to kiss Peter’s forehead. “If you need me for _anything_ ,” Stiles murmurs, resting his cheek against Peter’s, “Remember I’m just a phone call and a little bit of belief away.”

Peter presses his nose into the skin under Stiles’ ear and takes a deep breath in, relishing in Stiles scent. He frowns and clenches his jaw as he thinks about how different everything is to what he thought it was going to be when he was a naïve teenager. 

“See you tomorrow, Stiles,” he murmurs, taking one last deep breath, he nuzzles into Stiles’ neck briefly before leaving and not looking back.

***

Lydia looks breath taking as she walks down the aisle towards him. He doesn’t cry. His Mama does, he’s not altogether sure it’s from happiness though. His Uncle Jacob looks particularly unsure but again, free party, they’ll hash it out later. He pointedly doesn’t look at Stiles, can’t really. He has to at least pretend this is a little bit for love rather than a beneficial agreement between friends because their contraception failed and they felt like having a free party and holiday. Peter thinks he manages it…just.

-oOo-

Thomas Martin-Hale comes into the world quietly, a little after midnight in late September. Lydia gives birth to him in the Hale House with Stiles’ help and Peter’s support, she doesn’t break his hand but he’s definitely glad he took his wedding ring off before she trapped his hand in her vice like grip. Peter sits in bed next to Lydia after it’s all over and stares at Thomas, at his _son_ , running a thumb over his downy tufts of brown hair.

He didn’t know he was capable of loving someone so much.

-oOo-

Life continues. Thomas becomes a toddler, Lydia gets pregnant again, and on purpose this time. They have a baby girl who they name Rose and she’s the most perfect thing Peter’s ever seen. He dotes on his children, cuts back his hours at the law firm to stay at home while Lydia campaigns to be elected as mayor. She does get elected; they have great sex that night.

Everything is ticking over, years pass. He still goes and visits Stiles on a lunch time, taking his cubs with him while they’re still too young for school. They love Stiles and Stiles loves them.

Everything is fine, until everything isn’t. 

He and Lydia have their own house but they still spend the full moon at the Hale House. The pack might not always run but they always spend it together. They have dinner, play games, chat and tell stories, letting the young ones stay up late and Peter loves it. 

That night everyone goes to bed happy.

Peter wakes up when Lydia wails, not screams, wails. He bolts up right in bed and turns to her, “Oh thank God,” she breathes, leaning back. “There’s a fire, the sprinklers haven’t worked and I couldn’t wake you.”

Panic starts to set in. He can smell it, hear it, and feel the unnatural heat of it in the house. “I’ll get the children,” he says, scrambling out of bed, grabbing his cell phone off of the bedside table. He burns his hand on the door handle when he goes to open it but ignores the smell of his burnt flesh. 

“Wake the others,” he tells her. He sees her nod and head in the direction of Talia and Richard’s bedroom. 

He covers his nose with his hand. The fire is downstairs but there’s still a lot of smoke upstairs. He keys in Stiles’ number as he fumbles along, feeling for the door handle into the room his cubs are sharing. They’re groggily wiping at their eyes when he finally enters the room. “Did Mama wail?” Thomas asks. 

“She did,” he nods, “but everything is going to be okay. We’re going to climb out of the window, like Spider Man does, alright?” 

They nod at him and he beckons them over, picking both of them up and walking over to the window. He hears the click of a depressed trigger before the shot and throws himself to the floor, covering his cubs as the window shatters above him, the bullet hitting the bedroom wall. Rose starts crying and he shushes her, whispering soothing words. He lets go of Thomas to try and call Stiles again but again, the call doesn’t get put through. 

“Hey guys, I need you to do something for me, okay?” he tells them, “I need you to believe that Stiles will come and help us alright?” They nod at him, “with everything you have. You need to believe in him harder then you’ve ever believed and wished for anything in your whole life. And when you see the others, you need to tell them to believe too because your Papa says so.”

They nod their understanding and ascent and Peter grabs hold of Thomas again and edges back towards the smoky hallway. Laura stumbles through as he straightens up. “What’s happening? I heard Lydia wailing. Did I hear a gun shot?” 

“Hunters,” he answers grimly. He hands her Rose and puts Thomas down next to her. “Find the others, I’m going to try and get to the office and see if the phone line is working. Believe in Stiles.” She nods, takes Thomas’ hand and is off down the corridor again.

The office is at the top of the stairs, and the noise and heat comes from downstairs almost unbearable. As he expects the phone line is dead. He tries his cell phone again but nothing. Cautiously, Peter edges over to the window, peering out to see if anyone is watching it. He thinks it’s clear and he has to check, so taking a deep breath he pulls it open and gets about a foot out of the window before he hits a barrier. Mountain ash. He knew they would, if they wanted to burn his family to death they weren’t going to allow any chance for escape. Hopelessness starts setting in. He gets back inside just in time to dodge another bullet, it passes through the space he’d just occupied and hits the ceiling. 

He doesn’t know what to do. What can he do? What’s the use in being the enforcer if he can’t do anything! Nothing has been amiss. Everyone had been acting as normal, and they’ve not done anything to piss of any hunters. Never mind that no hunters have been reported near their territory for years. And anyway, people know that Stiles is their emissary and what he’ll do to anyone who goes after them. Clearly not this group. 

Peter heads back into the hallway, “Mama!” He shouts, “Papa! Talia! Richard!” He can’t hear much over the roar of flames. Peter starts getting desperate, checking each room as he passes them and finding no one.

He goes up another floor and finds everyone huddled in Cora’s room. It’s even hotter in the top of the house but there’s a little less smoke. Talia stands to great him, her face grim and her scent betraying her fear. “Laura says they’re out there shooting anyone who goes near the windows so we can’t climb out and I haven’t been able to reach anybody on my cell phone.”

“Even if they weren’t shooting,” Peter says, “they’ve surrounded the house with mountain ash. The main phone line into the house is down as well. Talia…I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t either,” Talia breathes, her eyes brimming. Peter pulls her into the hug and they rub their cheeks together, scenting.

Thomas runs over and Peter scoops him up, settling him on his hip. Thomas had been making pains about being too big to be held like this, but right then he doesn’t seem to care. Peter nuzzles his son’s hair, the same shade of brown as his. Peter is terrified that this is how his children, his babies, his _cubs_ are going to die. Not years in the future after Peter himself had already passed on, but now, their lives barely even started.

“We told everyone to believe in Stiles, Papa,” he says into the Peter’s ear, his voice croaky from smoke inhalation.

“Thank you,” he says, forcing a smile before kissing the top of Thomas’ head. 

They sit and they wait and they believe in Stiles and it’s awful. The worst moments of Peter’s life, holding his children with Lydia and resting his head on his Mama’s shoulder and then... 

The Jeep. 

Peter hears it, gunning down the driveway and he almost sobs with relief. He hears gunfire and feels his Mama tense, “It’s fine, his Jeep’ll be warded against bullets. And anyway it’s Stiles, he could probably turn them into bubbles if they came within a meter of him.”

Peter stands, giving Thomas and Rose to Lydia and he heads over the window, cautiously opening it to spy on what’s happening outside. Talia quickly joins him.

Peter watches as Stiles’ Jeep pulls up outside of the front of the house and he gets out, runes blazing red and even from this distance Peter can see Stiles’ fury. He gets out of his Jeep, and the hunters kept firing but nothing hits Stiles. 

“ **Stop!** ” Stiles commands, and his voice is like nothing Peter has ever heard before, deep and vengeful, full of power and the promise of pain and death. 

And they do, every hunter freezes in whatever position they are in, some are mid-step, bullets stop in mid-air. 

Stiles’ runes still glow red but when he turns towards the house he shouts in his normal voice, “Talia! Peter!” 

“Stiles,” he shouts back, opening the window fully, “There’s mountain ash, we can’t get out!”

Stiles does something with his hands and the pressure Peter feels from leaning out of the window disappears. “Just get everyone to jump out of the window! I’ll slow every ones fall!”

Peter didn’t even reply before turning and grabbing Thomas, “I’m going to throw you out of the window and Stiles is going to stop you from hurting yourself, okay?” Thomas has barely begun nodding before Peter is throwing his son out of the window, followed shortly after by his daughter. Talia’s kids go next, then his Mama and Papa, followed by Lydia and Richard. “Alpha goes last,” Talia says before pushing him forcefully out of the window. 

“You just wanted to push me out of the window,” he gripes at her when she joins him on the ground, still their smiles are blinding. They’re whole family is covered in black soot and they’re all sweating and stinking to high heaven but they’re alive which is what matters. 

“Thank you,” he sighs, throwing himself at Stiles. Stiles wraps his arms firmly around him.

“Just a phone call-”

“Or a little bit of belief away,” he finishes, pulling back. “How long can you keep them in stasis?”

“Long enough for us to get everyone somewhere safe before we start hurting them,” Stiles grins, his runes flaring brighter. 

“You say the nicest things to me.”

***

Peter can’t help but be impressed when Stiles literally leaves the hunters where they stand suspended to drive everyone back to Peter’s house and add even more wards to the perimeter. Peter doesn’t shower, just kisses his children on their heads, hugs the rest of his family, tells them he loves them all and gets back into the Jeep.

“Notice you can’t see the flames,” Stiles says, nodding to where there should be a plume of smoke but is just the normal night sky. “When we’ve dealt with the hunters I’m going to look into it. They must have had a magic user with them, to hide the smoke because I didn’t do that. And to get passed the wards. No one with ill intent should have been able to get passed the wards!” He slams his fist into the steering wheel and Peter grabs his arm before he can do it again.

“Stiles, Stiles! It’s alright, it’s not your fault! You saved us,” he says, trying to reassure.

“There shouldn’t have been anything to save you from!” He shouts, “What if you’d died? What would I do without you? Without all of you?

“Don’t think about it,” Peter soothes, running his hand down from Stiles’ wrist to take his hand, rubbing his thumb over Stiles’ knuckles. “Don’t think about it. We lived and we’re going to kill everyone who helped plan and execute this.”

“Okay…Okay…” and Stiles starts to pull himself back together incrementally, so when they eventually exit the Jeep in the clearing that the Hale House stands in he’s seething once again. 

The house is completely engulfed in flames and Peter stares at it, his fangs and claws growing. So many memories lost, photos and belongings all gone, but they had escaped with their lives and he’s overwhelmingly glad that material possessions are all they’re losing. 

“Who shall we start with?” Stiles asks.

Peter wanders over to a balding middle aged man. “This one?” he suggests.

Stiles nods, wandering over, he touches the man’s forehead, “He can speak when spoken too now, but he still can’t move” he says. 

Peter strokes a claw along the man’s throat, “Who do you work for?” he asks silkily.

“Fuck you, scum” he man snarls and spits in Peter’s face.

“Well, that wasn’t very nice,” he croons before grinning like a demon had possessed him.

***

It takes them a couple hours but eventually they get the whole story. The night ends when Peter rips out Kate and Gerard Argent’s throat, just for the shear satisfaction of it before Stiles vaporises them, tiny particles of blood blowing away in the morning breeze.

As Peter looks at his blood covered hands, feels the blood caking his face and tastes it in his mouth. He knows that the next few months are going to be hard. Everyone will likely have nightmares and Derek will need therapy but no matter how long it takes Peter will make sure that Derek believes, truly, that this hadn’t been his fault.

“I know I could have done this earlier but I liked the effect and everything was already destroyed anyway…” Stiles murmurs before turning to face the burning house. He holds out his right hand, palm up, takes a deep breath and clenches his fist. There’s a _whomp_ and the fire goes out. 

Stiles sways sideways and Peter catches him, places him back on his feet but keeps an arm around his waist for support. Stiles’ head lolls onto Peter’s shoulder, “I have used a lot of magic tonight,” he yawns, eyes blinking closed. 

“I’ll drive home,” Peter tells him, easily lifting him into a bridal carry.

“This is not the situation I imagined you holding me like this for the first time,” Stiles says into Peter’s shoulder.

Peter hears him just fine but still can’t help himself, “What?”

“You heard me,” Stiles sighs, “Be nice to me I’m an old man and very, very tired.”

“You’re only forty-seven, that’s not old,” Peter tells him matter-of-factly.

“Well it’s not young either,” he counters.

Peter only hums as he lets Stiles’ feet touch back onto the ground so he can open the Jeep’s passenger side door for him.

“Just FYI, I’m going to fall asleep on the ride back to yours and I’m not going to wake up for like twenty-four hours, maybe more. Put me near everyone though, please, the proximity to the pack will help my magic recover.”

“I’ll get the cubs to nap with you,” he says, placing Stiles gently in the seat and buckling him in. “Do you want me to call Adam and let him know where you are? That you’re okay?” Peter still doesn’t like the guy but he’s getting better at being civil.

“No, it’s okay,” Stiles sighs, taking hold of Peter’s hand, “He’s visiting his parent’s again, they still don’t know about us.”

“Stiles, then why are you with him still?! For fucks sake, you should be with someone who’s proud to be with you!” Peter exclaims, but Stiles is already asleep. 

Peter sighs and places the hand he’s holding into Stiles’ lap before leaning in to press a kiss to Stiles’ forehead, running a hand gently through his dirty hair. It would be more grey then brown soon.

-oOo-

Everyone lives in Peter’s house after the fire. It’s cramped but nobody cares, happy that they were all still alive to live in such close quarters. The remaining Argent clan tries to bring a case to the Council to demand compensation for the deaths of Kate and Gerard. They don’t get very far and end up having to give the Hale’s compensation.

Slowly, slowly, things go back to normal. Lydia starts her campaign for governor and meets someone she thinks has the potential to make them finally file for divorce, Peter’s ecstatic for her. The kids go back to school, Derek starts visiting a therapist who’s in the know about the supernatural, and the Hale House rebuild begins. None of town really knows what happened that night, just that there was a fire and everyone survived. 

Peter keeps it that way, Stiles helps him falsify reports saying that it had been caused by an electrical fault and gives it too his Dad to file. John Stilinski may have retired years ago but he still held a lot of sway at the police station.

Peter goes back to work and his routine of visiting Stiles’ shop during lunchtimes, always with coffee for both of them and milk for Loki. It’s a crisp winter afternoon when Peter arrives at Stiles’ shop to find Stiles is nowhere to be found. He opens the door, the bell tinkles but there’s no Stiles, no Loki. 

“Stiles!?” He calls and gets no reply. He takes a depth breath in through his nose and can smell Stiles’ scent, the place is saturated with it. There’s something else there too though, something rotten and tainted and it makes Peter’s nose scrunch up. Peter puts down the coffees and the milk and strides into the back room, the door that leads into the back street is hanging off its hinges.

“Stiles?! Loki?!” He calls again, with more urgency this time, running towards the stairs and lead up to the apartment above the shop, “Stiles?! Adam?!” 

Nothing.

He jogs back over to the back door and smells the air. Again, there’s Stiles’ scent, he catches a residue of panic this time too, and it’s all overlaid on top of that foul, rotten smell. He goes out into the street and loses the scent. Whoever took Stiles took him away in a car.

Peter calls Talia and paces while he waits. Something crunches under his foot, making him look down. Scattered on the floor around him are pieces of Loki in his ornament form. Peter had just stood on a piece of his tail. “Fuck, shit, sorry. Oh fuck, I’m so sorry Loki. Here, let me just…”

Talia’s phone goes to voicemail and he leaves a message. His Mama is in Beacon Heights for the day so he calls his Papa next. He picks up on the third ring, “Hey, son, everything okay?”

“Stiles is missing,” he blurts, “and I don’t know what to do. They took him away in a car so I don’t have anything to follow. The only thing to go on is this awful scent in his shop, like rotting things, but I don’t recognise it.”

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” his Papa reassures him before hanging up.

Peter shoves his phone away and searches for a dust pan and brush to try and keep him occupied during the wait. He finds them the in the cupboard under the stairs and sets about careful sweeping up every bit of Loki he can find, hoping that since the cat was in his ornament form it would mean that Stiles will be able to fix him. 

It doesn’t take as long as he’d like. After putting Loki in a safe place Peter starts to pace again, his mind throwing up scenario after scenario, each of them worse than the last.

***

Fifteen minutes later his Papa gets out of his car, he’s in his seventies, but still as spry as ever. Peter’s Papa takes one sniff of the air, not even in the shop yet, and his expression turns grim. “That’s Darach magic,” he tells him, “tainted and rotten like the wielder. My old pack dealt with one when I was a teenager, the scent is exactly the same.”

“And it’s got Stiles,” Peter gulps. “The Nemeton?” 

“I can’t think of anywhere else they’d take him,” his Papa replies, “You take the car, and I’ll call your sister.”

“Alright,” he says, heading for the drivers side. His Papa grabs his hand as he walks past, “Bring your boy back safe.” 

Peter grins at him, fangs out before jumping into the driver’s seat and gunning it towards the preserve.

***

The drive to the preserve takes too long for Peter’s liking but he can’t speed, he’s no use to Stiles if he’s being questioned by an officer at the side of the road. Once he’s as close to the Nemeton as he can get in the car, he parks and starts running through the preserve, not even closing the car door behind him. Peter runs as fast as he can but it still doesn’t feel fast enough. He knows his way to the Nemeton like the back of his hand but even if he didn’t, he’d be able to follow the Darach’s scent. The closer he gets the stronger the smell becomes, and it makes Peter gag. He knows going in to something like this blind isn’t a good idea, waiting for backup is the clever thing to do and he’s always prided himself on his intelligence but Stiles is in danger, he _can’t_ wait.

Peter can see patches of rot on the Nemeton’s branches before he even reaches the clearing the tree lives in. Dark patches marring its usually healthy branches. When Peter reaches the edge of the clearing he sees Stiles bound to the Nemeton, unconscious, his head lolling forward. Peter rushes to him, only to bounce off of a mountain ash barrier when he comes within three meters of Stiles. 

“I don’t think so,” says a voice from above. A voice Peter recognises.

Peter snarls as Adam drops down from the Nemeton’s upper branches. He lands lightly in front of Peter on the other side of mountain ash barrier, arms glowing with black runes. 

“You!” Peter growls.

“Me,” Adam taunts, “You never liked me, something you just couldn’t put your finger on and here’s why.” He grins like a loon and Peter feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. 

“It’s just you and me now, Peter,” Adam croons. The Darach snaps his fingers and Peter can’t move. Peter can breathe and he can look around but when he tries to take a step forward his can’t lift his legs off of the ground. 

He’s frozen in stasis, just like Stiles had done to the hunters that had set fire to his childhood home. Some dots fit together in Peter’s brain, some connections are made, “It was you,” he accuses, “You were you magic user helping the Argents.”

“It was, and no one suspected me. I was just a mere human after all, a mere human visiting their parents.”

“Were you ever visiting your parents?”

“Of course not, I killed them years ago,” Adam answers nonchalantly. 

“Why did you help them though? And why are you doing this now? Why not ten years ago?!” He can’t help but ask.

“I’m growing weak and I want to absorb Stiles’ power, grief and rage do wonderful things to amount of power a person can produce, you know? He was in such a fury and you all survived, imagine what he would have been like if you’d all died,” Adam ponders. “You didn’t though did you, you just had to ruin it by _believing_ in him. So I’m going to kill you now, in front of him and then do the ritual. I doubt it’ll be quite the same as if you’d all died but it’ll be enough to sustain me for a while.”

“You’re fucking crazy,” Peter snarls.

“Maybe,” Adam smiles. “I’m going kill you slowly,” he says, in that same ponderous tone, “I want to hurt you. I want him to hurt… He’s in love with you, you know, the old fool has been for years. I managed to trick him into a relationship but when I tried to get him to love me… I even tried to spell him into it but I couldn’t, it just wouldn’t _stick_.”

Peter feels like his heart is breaking all over again. If Peter had never met Lydia he never would have had his children and he wouldn’t change that for the world but at the same time, all of the years he and Stiles had missed out on… Peter growls and tries to fight whatever force is holding him in place but he still can’t move! 

“Time to wake him up I suppose,” Adam purrs.

Adam clicks his fingers and Stiles comes back to consciousness, gasping, staring around himself wide eyed. His gaze locks onto Peter, “No,” he cries out.

“Yes,” Adam sneers, “Your _precious Peter_ ,” he spits Peter’s name like he’s vermin, “at my mercy. What shall I do to him Stiles?” 

“Don’t do anything to him! Please! Please, Adam! I’ll do anything! Just let him go! If you want my magic you can have just let him g-!”

“I mean, I could, but that wouldn’t be any fun,” Adam drawls, waving his hand and when Stiles opens his mouth to speak to sound comes out. “Why would I want to let anyone go when I could do this…?” And he slashes the air in front of him and Peter feels something invisible slowly starting to cut his chest open. It burns, and he can’t stop the scream that he releases. He’s never felt pain like it.

“Stiles,” he pants when the pain starts to subside, “Stiles, I believe in you.” Adam gestures and another cut opens up across his stomach and Peter screams before gritting his teeth and continuing, “I always have, Stiles, and I always will. I lov-”

“Enough of that,” Adam snarls and with a wave of his hand Peter finds he can’t make a sound either. Even as the next slash creeps up the length of his thigh, his mouth is open and the pain is blinding but no sound leaves his throat. 

Peter does what he’s always done when the situation looks utterly dyer, he believes in Stiles. 

Peter can see it; see Stiles fighting against the ropes that are holding him in place. He watches as some of the runes on his arms start to glow red. Another cut swipes its way across his back this time and his eyes squeeze closed against the pain, head falling back. When he manages to look back at Stiles again all of the runes on his arms are aglow and the ropes have been ripped to shreds. 

“No!” Adam shrieks using his magic to push Stiles back against the Nemeton trunk and hold him there.

But as he does Peter feels whatever has been holding him in place weaken and after twisting and turning he breaks free, hitting the forest floor with a dull thud. He pulls himself warily to his feet, legs shaking, his clothes slowly soaking through with his own blood. 

Peter picks up the nearest rock, he can’t get through the barrier but that doesn’t mean he can’t throw something through it. “Hey, asshole!” He shouts before throwing the rock at Adam.

Peter knows the rock won’t meet its mark because his mark is a magic user but he just wants to cause a distraction. And sure enough, when Adam rounds on Peter, the pressure that has been forcing Stiles down weakens and Peter sees him bounce up from behind Adam. Adam forces Peter onto his knees and holds him in place again. He steps out from behind the mountain ash barrier, advancing towards Peter with mad eyes. He creates a silver dagger and raises it, ready to stab Peter in the chest. 

“You don’t get to touch him,” Stiles shouts, and Adam turns again, torn between whom to fight, his magic not strong enough to sustain holding them both in place. The hold on Peter loosens and it’s all he needs. 

Peter pounces, landing on Adam from behind and tearing out the side of his neck with his teeth before pulling his head off. He spits out the mouthful of Adam’s blood, it tastes disgusting.

“We can’t let any of his blood touch the Nemeton,” Stiles says, cauterising the wounds on Adam’s separated head and body with a look. Peter watches as he starts circling his hands in front of him. Slowly, he draws Adam’s spilt blood into a ball in front of him, some comes from Peter himself and when it’s all collected he claps his hands together and the ball of blood, Adam’s head and body disappear.

“Where did you send it?” Peter asks.

“To the Council, they’ll deal with it. The remains of a Darach are not my problem,” Stiles says before sagging and Peter has a moment of déjà vu as he reaches out and catches Stiles before he hits the floor. 

“Peter,” Stiles smiles, placing a hand on his chest, “You’re bleeding, here let me…” And the runes on Stiles arms change colour to a familiar pale green as he begins knitting Peter’s skin back together. It takes a lot longer than it had to heal him when Stiles and his family had rescued him from hunters when he was in college. “I think they’re going to scar, he used terrible magic to make these,” Stiles frowns at him.

“It’s alright,” Peter says, running his hands up and down Stiles’ arms.

“God, Peter, I was sleeping with a Darach, living with one who helped try to kill your whole family and I never even noticed,” Stiles says before turning, bending double and throwing up. Peter rubs his back gently, letting him get it out. “Well I did notice,” Stiles mumbles, spitting onto the floor, “which was when he knocked me out and brought me here. I didn’t want to hurt him, I should have just-” Stiles breaks off and is sick again.

“You’re safe now,” Peter tells him, helping Stiles balance when he straightens up.

“Peter I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’ve been putting everyone in dang-”

“Stop,” Peter chides gently, placing a hand over Stiles’ mouth. “Was it Derek’s fault?”

Stile shakes his head.

“Exactly. So it wasn’t yours either. And don’t say that you should have known better because you’re an adult. You don’t reach an age and then suddenly no one can get the better of you anymore.” 

The sound of Talia’s wolf form running towards them reaches his ears. “Talia’s close,” Peter tells Stiles, removing his hand. Stiles nods, straightening his spine.

Talia transforms back into her human form without even breaking her stride, launching herself at Stiles. “When Papa called,” she says, “I was so scared! We’ve only just been able to find the Nemeton! I’m so glad you’re okay! What happened?” 

“It wa- I didn’t…Peter could you please?” Stiles asks, stuffing his head into Talia’s neck. 

“Of course, let’s start walking back to my car though,” Peter says, gently coaxing Stiles away from Talia and leading him back through the preserve, an arm wrapped around his waist. He can hear Richard, his parents and Laura flanking them. “It was Adam,” Peter tells his sister, before launching into an explanation, squeezing Stiles’ gently every time Peter hears his breath hitch. 

The run to the Nemeton felt like it had taken forever but the walk back to his car couldn’t have taken more than fifteen minutes. “Talia did you drive here?”

“Ran,” she answers, trying and failing to catch Stiles’ eye.

“Can you drive us back home please, I’m going to get in the back with Stiles,” he tells her.

“Of course,” she says, making her way around to the still open driver’s side door, Richard slips into the passenger seat. He’d left the keys in the ignition; Peter’s surprised that he even managed to turn it off. 

Five minutes into the journey home and Stiles falls asleep, his head tucked into the crook of Peter’s neck. Peter holds Stiles against him, gently scenting him so as too not wake him up, using the gesture to help ground him, anchor him. Stiles is safe, Peter’s holding him in his arms but adrenalin is still coursing through his veins making his hands shake.

When they reach home he carries Stiles indoors, heading straight through to the den, breathing in the comforting smell of home and pack. He lies down on the sofa, cradling Stiles gently on top of him. He runs his fingers lightly through Stiles’ salt and pepper hair, softly presses his thumb to the lines at the corners of Stiles’ eyes. 

Peter can hear Talia talking to his parents, Lydia and Richard in the kitchen. He starts to drift, still carding his fingers through Stiles’ soft hair. Peter hears his Mama enter the den and opens his eyes a little to look at her. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” she sighs, too low to wake Stiles, kneeling down next to his head and cupping his cheek.

“I was so scared, Mama. The fire and then this, I just, I don’t know how much more I can take,” he admits honestly.

“I know, I know, baby boy. I can’t promise you that everything is going to be okay but we can hope.”

“We can believe,” Peter murmurs, looking back at Stiles.

Peter stifles a yawn and his Mama leans in, kissing his forehead and then Stiles’. She stands and pulls the fleece blanket off of the back of the sofa and drapes it over them. “I’ll come and wake you for dinner, sleep until then, okay baby?”

“Okay, Mama,” he nods, his eyelids fluttering closed. He’s asleep before she even leaves the room.

***

Peter wakes up slowly, breathing in the smell of Stiles and the dumplings his Papa is preparing in the kitchen for dinner, he listens to the voices of Thomas and Rose chatting to Lydia in the dining room, doing homework no doubt. He enjoys the weight of Stiles still lying on top of him, still held in his arms. Peter tightens his grip for a moment before loosening his hold and opening his eyes. Stiles is already awake, staring at the wall opposite them, head still resting on Peter’s chest.

“Hey,” Peter says, his voice scratchy from sleep. 

“Hey Peter,” Stiles sighs, folding his arms over Peter’s chest and resting his chin them so he can look at Peter more easily.

“Is it okay that I did this?” Peter asks, momentarily nervous, “Assumed that you’d be okay sleeping on me.”

“Yes, of course,” Stiles tells him softly, “It was…It was what I needed. I still hadn’t recovered all of the magic I’d expended from the fire and fighting Ad- the Darach…he was very strong...I didn’t think I could at first, but you did…without your belief I wouldn’t have been able to do it.”

“Always, I always have the utmost belief in you.”

“I know,” Stiles smiles softly, “I can feel it, like you can feel your pack bonds.” 

“I didn’t know it was such a tangible thing for you.”

“When you were in high school and you helped me deliver Laura, the bond was pretty much non-existent then because we barely knew each other and the surge of power you sent me knocked me reeling. I almost crashed my Jeep.” 

They fall into silence as Peter mulls over everything Stiles has just told him. Stiles wraps his arms around Peter’s shoulders and tucks his head under Peter’s chin. Peter runs his hands up and down Stiles’ back, his mind racing. After a while Stiles’ breathing evens out and deepens, he’d fallen back to the sleep again. Peter presses his nose into Stiles’ hair and just breathes. 

He isn’t sure how much time has passed before Lydia quietly enters the room. She smiles at him, he’s lying on the sofa with another man in his arms and he knows that she’s genuinely happy for him. Peter didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this women but he’d be forever grateful she was in his life, was the mother of his children. 

“I knew the end our intimate relationship was always inevitable,” she says, sitting down on the floor in front of him and primly crossing her legs, “but I am a little sad. I’m glad we finally get our chance to be with people who it’s _real_ with though. We deserve it.”

“Yeah we do.”

“I think, when the Hale House is ready, we should move in to, rent this place out. When Stiles is ready ask him to move in as well. Everyone’s always known what we had was an arrangement and not love, so I doubt they’ll find it strange. And I don’t want Thomas and Rose to have to split their time between us.”

“I like that idea.” Peter reaches out and runs his thumb over her cheek. “And it means I can finally meet Jordan since we won’t be technically together anymore.”

“He’s a hellhound, you know.”

“My, my, Lydia,” Peter smirks at her, “you clearly have a type. Intelligent, roguishly handsome, can turn into some form of canine at will.”

“I’m very sure only one of those describes you and it wasn’t one of the first two,” she bites back with a grin.

“Lies,” Peter smiles.

Lydia looks at Stiles and the humour in her eyes dims. “Is he going to be okay?”

“Eventually… I’m not sure how long it’ll take but we’ll all help him get there.”

-oOo-

Stiles stays with the Hales for a month, not wanting go near his shop. Peter fetches him the remains of Loki and sure enough Stiles puts the cat quickly back together and the house gains another guest, much to Rose’s delight. Even though Peter assures Stiles can wait as long as he likes, eventually he goes back to the shop to cleanse his space and burn a lot of furniture.

No one expects Stiles and Peter to jump straight into a relationship and they don’t. Stiles needs space and time to heal before they can even contemplate it. They’d talked about it, sure, but in a vague ‘this is something that is going to happen in the future’ kind of way. And Peter is happy to wait. If anything, Peter would have been worried if Stiles wanted to jump straight into something after the ordeal with the Darach.

Peter isn’t surprised when one afternoon sat in Stiles’ shop during his lunch break the man says, “I’m going to travel for a while.” 

He’s sad, but he’s not _surprised_. Peter nods; he knows Stiles has been chafing here in Beacon Hills. 

Stiles continues, “He used magic on me and I wasn’t even aware of it, still now, I don’t know if he left any kind of weird magical trace on me. And the magic he used, I’ve never heard of it and none of my American contacts have either. I just need some answers.” 

“Where are you going to go?” 

“Asia to begin, their magical knowledge and culture is thousands upon thousands of years old. I feel like it’s a good place to start. Then I am going to tour around for a while, see where I end up.”

Peter nods at him. “When are you going to go?”

“Fly out next week.”

“So soon?” Peters feels his heart begin to race

“I need to wrap up some business and employ a temporary emissary to cover for me while I’m away and then I’m off… I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. But when I get back, because I am _coming_ back Peter, I’d like us take a shot at being more than friends,” he says firmly, cupping Peter’s face in his hands. “I’ll always come back for you if you need me, I’m just phone call or-”

“A little bit of belief away,” Peter finishes at a whisper, ignoring the tremble in his voice to draw Stiles into his arms.

-oOo-

Every time Stiles passes through a major city he sends Peter a post card and soon Peter has a whole stack of them showing Stiles’ path from the east coast of China, south into Korea and then west until he ends up in Egypt. The postcard he gets from Cairo complains bitterly about the burning of the library of Alexandria, Peter can only agree.

Months pass. The Hale House rebuild finishes and everyone moves back in. Peter pins up the post cards on his office wall. 

The family meets Jordan Parish, Lydia’s boyfriend and Peter genuinely likes him. He thought he would because he knows anyone able to catch Lydia’s attention would be well worth his time too. He is surprised by quite how much he likes the man however. Jordan is funny, smart and dotes on Lydia and Peter enjoys having him around. Jordan starts running with the pack on the full moons and a year after Stiles’ left, Jordan moves into the Hale House. 

Peter’s life is enjoyable. He gets to watch his children grow in a safe and happy environment, his work is fulfilling but when he lies in bed at night he feels Stiles’ absence like a hole in his chest.

-oOo-

A year and a half after Stiles left for Asia, Peter drives into the Hale House clearing and see Stiles’ blue jeep parked outside. Heart hammering Peter somehow manages to park his car and lock it before he runs towards the front door, taking the porch steps two at a time.

Peter throws open the front door shouting, “Stiles?!” 

“Peter!” Stiles shouts back, barrelling into the hallway. 

They crash together, wrapping their arms around each other in the bone crushing hug. Peter breathes deep, breathing in Stiles scent, honey and soap and the power of lightening and the ocean. “I missed you so much,” he breathes, scenting Stiles’ jaw, feeling missing pieces of himself slot back into place.

“I missed you too,” Stiles replies, pulling back to take Peter’s face in his hands. Peter gazes into Stiles’ eyes before letting his flutter shut as Stiles leans in to kiss him. It’s just a gentle press of lips but it’s utterly perfect. Twenty-three years after first meeting Stiles at the age of fifteen, Peter finally gets to have him.

-oOo-

They get married on Beltane. Peter and Stiles walk down the aisle together, hand on hand. Peter feels himself well up as he looks at Stiles and says his vows. He gets it now, understands why Richard teared up upon seeing Talia on their wedding day. Being tied to the love of your life for the _rest_ of your life is an amazing thing. Stiles is fifty-two and there is definitely more grey in his hair then brown now but Peter thinks he’s never looked more beautiful.

The ceremony is wonderful but everyone knows the best part of any wedding is the party. 

There are speeches, he stands up and talks about how his life didn’t go the way he expected it to at all but he wouldn’t change it for the world. That now he gets to be with the man who he fell in love with when he was fifteen and in this moment he didn’t think his life could get any better. 

Stiles stands up once he’s sat down and says, to many laughs, “I did not fall in love with Peter when he was fifteen because gross. He’d definitely finished college before I even considered him attractive. I spent a good year feeling weird about having a crush on my best friend’s younger brother and then at _least_ another year worrying about said best friend castrating me if she ever found out about it. Good times.”

Peter dances with Stiles, with Rose, with Thomas, with Lydia. Drinks a lot of alcohol and dances with Stiles some more. They’d just sat down to take a breather when the first notes of _I Had the Time of My Life_ starts to play. 

Talia appears from nowhere “Stiles, come on! It’s our song!” she says, beckoning impatiently.

“We are too old for this, woman!” Stiles says firmly.

“Never,” Talia vehemently denies.

“You’re going to be a grandmother in two months!”

“And you’re going to deliver Laura’s baby and when they grow up and get married we’re still going to be doing this!”

“Fine!” Stiles says, standing up, the grin on his face at complete countenance to his tone. “I’ll be right there,” he tells her before turning back to Peter. “I love you,” he smiles, happiness radiating from him.

“I love you too,” Peter replies, still enjoying the feel of the words in his mouth even though they’d been saying it since Stiles had returned from his travels. Stiles leans in and plants a sloppy, drunken kiss on Peter’s lips and Peter kisses back with equal enthusiasm.

“Go show them, darling,” Peter says, leaning over smack Stiles’ ass when he’s turned to walk away. Stiles turns back to grin at him before walking over to Talia, reaching her just as the faster beat kicks in. They start to Salsa, Talia’s hair spinning around wildly, both of them laughing in utter elation. 

Peter watches Stiles and Talia dance but turns towards his Uncle Jacob when he sits down in the chair Stiles has vacated. The man has to be in his nineties but you wouldn’t think it. He claps Peter on the shoulder and grins happily, “You did it!”

“I did,” Peter smiles back, turning back just in time to see his husband being hoisted into the air by his older sister. He can’t help himself, just like he had the first time he’d seen them do that very same thing at Talia’s wedding all those year ago, Peter throws back his head, and he laughs.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!!
> 
> Please let me know what you thought, I'm really curious to find out what people thought about my characterisation of Peter and also how I wrote it so that Stiles' power does not only have to come from the belief he has in himself but can also come from the belief other people have in him.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always always appreciated and thank you thank you thank you again for reading!
> 
> Much love! xx
> 
> P.S. if anyone is interested in some of the stuff that didn't make it into the fic because it would have made the writing/dialogue to convoluted and would have seemed random since the fic is all from Peter's POV, I've talked about some of them in the comments below :)
> 
>  
> 
> **e-k-evans.tumblr.com**


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